Roses
by adolescentlemurs
Summary: She realizes that even after working in a flower shop for three years of her life, only now does she truly appreciate the beauty of roses.


**Wow hey how are you all. This is absolute shit and I have no clue why I'm posting it but okay.**

**I'm just kidding. Actually I'm not kidding about the shit part. My internet was down one night and my mind was just kind of like "Hey, let's stay up for hours and hours and write something dumb about flowers!" and my fingers were like "FUCK YEAH" and then this happened. And this is also me practicing present tense and whatnot since I suck some major ball sack.  
**

**If it's not too terrible, maybe you could review? Hehe. They're always appreciated.**

**Hope you somehow possibly manage to enjoy this and thanks for reading!**

**I don't own Soul Eater or Wuthering Heights. Sadly. ;_;  
**

* * *

She's turning the page to a worn out copy of Wuthering Heights, feet propped up on the low counter, when the small bell above the door rings, signaling another brave soul that's come to try their fate in the battlefield of overwhelming scents and colors.

She glances up at the newcomer, noticing a bright white head of hair, and a dark pair of sunglasses resting on his nose. He's dressed somewhat normally, although she doesn't think people resembling bikers usually come to pick up an order of chrysanthemums.

With practiced cheerfulness, she repeats her usual greeting of, "Welcome to Scents for the Soul, how can I help you today?" plastering on the fake smile she's used to wearing by now.

He grins at her, revealing serrated teeth, that she has to admit, set her a little on edge. Everything about this guy is practically screaming 'bad news', but if she doesn't follow the standard "Keep Our Customers Happy" policy, Marie will chew her out, no matter how kind the woman might seem.

"Roses," he says. He doesn't elaborate, no 'exactly four pink and eight red' or 'make sure the tallest one is in the middle with only one thorn on the left side', like she's so used to hearing. No, he simply stands there, seemingly waiting for her to process his request and pick up his order.

"A dozen?"

"Sure, why not?"

He's really starting to confuse her now. No one ever walked into the quaint, yet extremely overpriced flower shop without knowing exactly what they desired. She's so used to the complicated requests by now, that she's even invested in a miniature notepad to scribble the ridiculous details of a bouquet on. Really, how complicated did it have to be?

"Aaand... do you want them arranged in some way?"

He stares at her for a moment, or at least she thinks he stares at her through those dark glasses of his, before finally replying. "Nah. 'Doubt she's the kind that would care."

Ah, so they're for his girlfriend. Or maybe not, considering he's not even positive about what the girl in question would like.

She nods, scratching down the simple order out of habit, and tells him to wait a minute while she goes to the back room.

She pushes open the large metal door, automatically assaulted with the intoxicating and overwhelming scents of camellias, tulips, and finally towards the back, roses.

She realizes that she never actually asked him what color he would prefer, but she doubts he would take long to think about it anyways, and grabs a handful of crimson flowers.

She trims them, positions them, wraps them with a skill she's perfected over the many months she's worked at the tiny flower shop, and finally decides that she's finished as she hears the faint ringing of the bell back in the front of the store.

She walks back slower, taking her time to appreciate the beautiful flowers as well as her arrangement. But when she reaches the front of the store, the only thing there is a small sticky note taken from the pad on her desk and the lingering scent of men's cologne.

The door flies open from the heavy wind she hadn't noticed this morning when she walked in for work, and a breeze finds its way into the store, almost carrying away the tiny sticky note that is her only answer to her strange predicament. She scrambles to grab it before it flies off the counter, almost tripping over her feet, but managing to still land safely on her feet, roses still in tow.

There are neatly folded bills waiting below the paper, much more than needed to pay for the flowers, and she pockets them before glancing at the note.

The handwriting is messy and looks like it was done in a hurry, but she manages to make out the smeared and scratchy words.

_I really hope roses were all right. Wasn't sure what to get to surprise someone that works with flowers all day. _

There is no name, or any sort of way for her to identify who the strange, white-haired man that had come in the store was, only the almost-illegible note and what seems to be a phone number scrawled at the bottom of the yellow paper.

She stares at it for a moment, making sure it's not just something her mind has conjured up from the long time she's been single. After fully accepting that she has in fact, been given flowers (in a way), she pockets the note and sets the flowers behind the counter, a light shade of pink dusting across her cheeks.

~O~

It's her day to work the late shift, taking over for Marie while she goes out to do god knows what with her (most likely) insane husband. She's running late though, pigtails lightly slapping her cheeks as she jogs, and she prays that Marie won't look at the clock any time soon or a scolding will definitely ensue.

The door opens with _ding_, and Marie looks up from her paperwork, cell phone cradled between her shoulder and her jaw.

"Hold on a second Stein- Maka! You were supposed to be here half an hour ago!"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. I just had a lot of homework and then class too. It won't happen again, promise."

It's mostly true, although she finished her work and had classes YESTERDAY, and she had been far too tired to wake up any time before noon today. Marie doesn't seem to notice though, only giving her a skeptical look before nodding and going to pack up her things to leave.

Maka sits down at her usual spot, already pulling out a lengthy Stephen King from her bag, before a hand on her shoulder stops her.

She turns to find Marie ending her phone call, one hand jamming down the "end" button, while the other is hidden behind her back, a knowing smirk making its way onto her face.

"Before I go," she begins," I just wanted to give you these." She whips her hand from behind her back a little too dramatically, a large bouquet of scarlet roses shaking with the force of her movement. "Now don't get any ideas, you're not getting a raise or anything. In fact, they're not even from me. Would you care to share who's sending you flowers, Maka?" She raises a brow, her teasing smirk never faltering.

"If I knew, I would tell you," Maka responds coolly.

Marie almost looks genuinely hurt for a moment, eyebrows knitting together while she retracts her hand from Maka's shoulder to place it on her hip. "Come on now. I thought we were friends, Maka! You could at least tell me when you have a _boyfriend_."

"Marie, I don't have a boyfriend."

"So you're telling me that I'm supposed to believe that a complete stranger, a very _handsome_ stranger, just waltzed in here and asked to buy some flowers for you?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah I am," Maka deadpans. "Did he leave a note or something? I really don't know who it would be, Marie."

The older woman looks taken aback for a moment, staring at Maka while she waits in anticipation.

"Actually... no. He didn't. Now that you mention it, he didn't even know your name!"

"What?!" It's slowly beginning to dawn on her who it might have been, but Maka wants to make sure it was indeed her albino mystery man making another appearance. "What did he say when he ordered them?!"

"Good lord, Maka, stop yelling!"

"WHAT DID HE SAY?"

Marie puts her hands in front of her in a universal "chill the hell out" signal, but Maka just continues to stare at the woman, temper rising slowly.

"He just walked in and asked me to give it to "Pigtails". I thought it was a pet name or something! Goodness, Maka, I'm not stupid!"

She thinks that that's not entirely true, but keeps her mouth shut for the sake of her job. "What did he look like?"

Marie taps a long, manicured fingernail on her chin. "Well, he had _really_ light hair. Almost looked white. Surprised me when he first walked in, that's for sure. But he definitely wasn't albino- WAAAY too tan for that. Oh yes! And after he paid for the flowers, he grinned and I about jumped out of my skin-"

"Sharp teeth?"

"Eh- yes... SO YOU DO KNOW HIM!"

"He came during my shift a couple weeks ago and bought some roses."

Marie seems to cheer up at this. "For _you_?"

Maka only sighs in response, knowing how useless it would be to lie to the older woman. Even with an eye patch, she could see through any lie.

"So he's bought you flowers _twice_ now! And roses at that! Have you seen him anywhere else?"

"Nope."

Marie has told her before how she hates her blunt, one worded answers, and it clearly shows on her face now. "So he's just buying you flowers and hasn't contacted you in any other way?" she asks disbelievingly.

"He _did_ leave his phone number last time..." Big mistake, Maka.

Marie regains a brand new liveliness, suddenly obsessed with bringing together two complete strangers. One of which, who has no interest in dating. _Whatsoever_.

"You've made him wait this long! You _have_ to call him back!"

"Why? It's not like I know him."

"But he_ likes_ you, darling! You've got to give him credit for being romantic enough to buy you roses!"

"So I should call him because of his plant preference."

Marie attempts a glare, but her lower lip is pushed out in a pouting gesture, rendering her entire expression far more amusing than intimidating. "You should _call him_ because he was brave enough to put himself out there. And for you, even. Lord knows you're the most asexual being to ever lay foot in the shop. Most of our regulars get more action than you! They're in their seventies, Maka!"

It's her turn to glare, pigtails swaying as she turns from her previous task of finding her page in the novel she had pulled out earlier. "Have you ever considered that I _don't want_ any 'action'?"

"Please," Marie scoffs. "College student, early twenties? I think we both know what goes through your mind half the time."

Maka opens her mouth to scold the woman for comparing her to her dull-minded peers, but the door opens with a loud _ding_, silencing both of the women.

Marie smiles cheerfully and greets the customer, an older woman with dark bags under her eyes. She writes down her request, and starts toward the back of the store, but stops to whisper in Maka's ear.

"Just give him a call. It won't hurt you to try something fun every once in a while."

"Date rape is fun?"

"I swear to god, Maka." Marie glares at her before continuing on her way to the back, raising her voice to its normal, cheerful tone. "I'll get this last one and then I'm going home."

She stares at Marie's retreating figure for a moment before turning back to smile at the customer waiting patiently at the front of the store. She'll worry about her mystery suitor later when she doesn't have a job to do.

~O~

The phone is in her hands, digits flashing brightly in the otherwise dim room of her apartment. All she has to do is press _send_.

_All she has to do is press send_.

Why is it so hard? It's not like she'll be talking to him face to face. She can hang up at any time! But then again, she doesn't have any sort of idea who he might be, what he might act like, what his _entire face_ looks like, only having seen part of it while the rest was covered in dark sunglasses.

She shouldn't do it. It won't hurt anyone if she doesn't call. Sure, it'll probably injure his pride a little bit, but he'll get over it! He's a good looking guy for the most part; he can probably get any sort of girl!

Right. So she won't call. There's no reason to complicate things when she has homework to worry about.

"Hello?"

The deep voice just about gives her a heart attack as she looks down to see the ongoing call that she had placed and recognition finally dawns on her.

She had accidentally pressed send.

The phone had been ringing the entire time during her little internal battle.

She is being silent and probably creeping the guy out even more than the unknown number he had probably seen.

"Anyone there?"

The familiar baritone startles her once again, effectively bringing her back to reality. She hears him grumble something unintelligible, probably fed up with the continuous silence coming from her end. He's going to end the call, so she makes the stupidest decision she possibly can.

"Uh- Wait! H-hello?"

"What took you so long?"

For a second she wonders how he can possibly know it's her, but then she realizes he's referring to her prolonged moment of silence earlier.

"Uh, sorry. I... wasn't sure what to say."

She hears him chuckle on the other end. "So who is this anyways?"

"I... work down at the flower place. You left your number a few weeks ago?" She doesn't mean for it to come out as a question, but for some reason, talking to this complete stranger is making her more nervous than she's been in a while.

"Pigtails! I've been waiting for you to call."

"I have a name," she deadpans.

"Which you are planning on telling me, when?"

His snark isn't exactly the best way to 'woo' someone, but she finds herself growing more and more comfortable with talking to him.

"Maybe after you mention yours?"

"I asked you first," he teases. She can't help but smile at the childish response.

"I asked you second."

"Oho, _well played_, Pigtails. So I take it that's what you want to be called from now on?"

"Oh god no."

"So then, tell me your name, _pigtails_," he chuckles.

"Look, I'm just calling to let you know that I really appreciate the flowers and everything, but I don't really want any romance crawling its way into my life, so I'll have to kindly decline your offer. Or whatever you were planning on doing."

"All I asked for was your name, not a rejection letter, Pigtails."

"Well I'm sorry either way."

"Soul."

"Huh?"

"My name. It's Soul."

"What, did you think telling me your name would somehow magically change my mind?"

"Actually, yes."

She narrows her eyes, although she knows he can't see. "The answer is still no."

"I haven't even asked anything yet!"

"Well when you do, the answer will be no." She hears him growl on the other end. "You can't even tell me your real name and you're expecting me to accept some kind of offer."

"What? That is my real name."

"Uh huh. Sure. You know, lying isn't getting you anywhere."

"It's my real name, dammit!"

"Then prove it."

"Over the phone?!"

"Sure. You should be able to if it's your _real name_."

"W-wha? Oh my god," she hears him mutter disbelievingly. He takes a deep breath, apparently calming himself. "Look. I understand if you just came out of a break up or something, but all I'm asking is one date. You can even pick the place. Just have a little fun!"

"Ugh. You sound exactly like Marie."

"Wha?"

She sighs. "Nothing."

"So...?" he prompts.

She thinks for a second, realizing that he is quite persistent and the first man that hasn't talked to her like she's a six year old. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea.

"I like Japanese food," she says after a little bit.

There's a short pause on his end and then she thinks she can hear him chuckle, but she's not sure.

"Great! You wanna find a place or me?"

"I guess you can surprise me." She wonders what she's getting herself into, but banishes the thought and decides to follow the constant advice she's been getting to have fun.

"Cool. I'll text you the address once I choose a place then."

They chat idly for a few more minutes, slowly growing accustomed to each other as Maka marvels at his seemingly never-ending supply of sarcastic remarks. They're bantering and it feels... normal. Maybe they've both never been taught how to properly flirt. Maybe he's just getting uncomfortable talking to her and this is his automatic reflex. Maybe he's regretting inviting her on the date.

He laughs outright at something she had said absentmindedly. The sound is warm and honest and she can feel it ripple through her body and give her a sense of home that she hasn't felt in a long time. The single sound erases all doubt from her mind and she decides to stop musing on stupid details before she ruins her chances at a nice night out.

She eventually tells him she has to go, showers and homework call, and he agrees, mentioning that he has work in a few hours. They stutter a couple of awkward goodbyes, much unlike their previous bantering that had felt somewhat natural, and Maka finally hangs up, feeling a warmth make its way onto her cheeks.

~O~

She pulls into the crowded parking lot, congratulating herself for recognizing the address when he had sent it to her. Her favorite restaurant and she wouldn't be paying. Maybe it was a good idea to agree to this after all.

She walks through the large double doors into the familiar, open room and automatically spots white hair in the far corner of the room.

He seems to notice her too, for the hair rises and begins coming towards her, his previously hidden face coming into view.

The very first thing she notices is his eyes. Bright red stares into vibrant green as her own eyes widen at the strange pigment. It's unlike anything she's ever seen before, deep crimson pools holding traces of warmth and even some excitement, entrancing her all the more as she stares.

Her eyes are dragged lower as he grins at her, somewhat familiar, serrated teeth coming into view. They don't intimidate her like they did that day in the flower shop, now that she knows the kind of person the rows of daggers belong to.

He waves her over, and she makes her way towards him, secretly enjoying the way his eyes widen as the rest of her body comes into view. She had obviously made a good decision when choosing the short, strapless piece his eyes are roaming over now.

She finally reaches him, and lets her eyes skim over his suit clad physique, an unfamiliar warm feeling settling in her stomach. She misses the second appreciative glance he gives her, only looking up to catch his eyes quickly averting to the side and white strands of hair partially hiding his tinted cheeks.

"Quite the number you've got on there, Pigtails. I'm surprised you managed to fill out the top." He grins, all traces of embarrassment being replaced with the snide display of teeth.

"'Scuse me?" she scoffs. "Did you seriously just insult my boobs?"

He steps closer to her, hooking his arm through hers and bringing his mouth down to her ear. "Relax, Pigtails. I was just kidding. You look good." She can feel his breath ghost across the shell of her ear and manages to hold back a shiver.

She glares at his back when he turns away. "I thought we agreed you would stop calling me that."

"I made no such promise."

She feels like smacking that smug grin of his off with the spine of a book, preferably a hardcover, but instead decides to let him lead her to their table. She almost giggles at the familiar flowers that are resting in a vase in the middle of the table. Roses have seemed to become constantly associated with Soul. She had caught herself drifting to thoughts of her upcoming date more than once the previous week, usually whenever someone happened to request an arrangement of roses. Sometimes even when she happened to catch the red flowers lining the back wall while preparing flowers for a customer.

He pulls out her chair for her and she allows herself a small smile at the romantic gesture. She waits for him to sit down and doesn't realize she's staring at him until he raises a bleached brow and speaks up.

"What?"

"Hm?"

"You looked like you were about ready to rip my clothes off. Not that I mind or anything," he chuckles.

She can only splutter unintelligently, cursing him to hell and back for all his stupid snarky comments.

He teases her for a little while, obviously enjoying her stained cheeks and constant stuttering, until she finally clears her throat and regains some of her previous bravado.

"So how old are you anyways?"

The question takes him off guard, but he blinks a few times and regains his cool demeanor. "How old do you think I am?" he smirks.

"Well from what I've seen, I wanna say six? But then, I've never met a six year old with a vocabulary quite like yours."

She chuckles at the blank stare he gives her, relishing in the opportunity to finally give him a taste of his own medicine.

But her luck can only last for so long, and he recovers with a smug grin. "Apparently somebody's got a thing for little boys."

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, taking a sip of her drink.

"I'm 23."

And that's how the rest of their night progresses. One throws out a random question and the other answers, a few sarcastic comments thrown in just for fun. She learns his last name, which he had first told her was 'Eater', but she knew better, she learns that he works in an auto repair shop, she learns that he can actually play piano very well, although he doesn't think so, and she learns that she likes Soul Evans much more than she should.

They had somehow veered into the topic of family at some point, and they had both confessed their pasts, complete with her cheating father and his cold parents.

She finds that he's probably the only man she's actually told about her family, possibly the only person she's told _period_. She doesn't know what to make of this strange attraction she feels to him and by the time the night is over and he's walking her to her car, she musing over why she suddenly feels reluctant to say goodbye.

But she does, and they go their separate ways. Although she does periodically receive phone calls and invitations to different places, which she gladly accepts.

~O~

And now as she watches him fiddle with the bouquet in his hands, red staining his cheeks and eyes staring into hers almost desperately, she glances down and grabs the flowers.

And as she catches the glint of a diamond in the center of the bundle in her hands and stares while he drops to one knee, she realizes that even after working in a flower shop for three years of her life, only now does she truly appreciate the beauty of roses.


End file.
